#I got about halfway through planning the Witch/Wizard terminology spectrum discussion and then realized

[autumnalwalker]

Empty Names Side Story - Pop Quiz

Author's Note: Coming back from hiatus (hopefully) with another side story. This one was largely an excuse to do some infodumping on some magic system terminology that gets thrown around in the main story. Hopefully framing it as kid Ashan getting a lesson from his mentor will make that exposition a little more interesting to read. See the tags for more spoilery commentary. Empty Names Mastepost here. Word Count: 3,530 Content Warnings: Mention of (semi-accidentally) abducting a child.

Aliana Glassgaze taps the base of her gleaming white staff on the edge of the water and a shimmering bridge arcs from her feet to the other side of the stream.   Her young apprentice wastes no time in running right past her, ignoring the bridge altogether in favor of jumping from rock to rock, laughing as he goes.  She smiles, softly shakes her head, tucks a lock of midnight blue hair behind her ear, pulls down the broad brim of her pointy white hat, and begins leisurely strolling across her conjuration.

She keeps watch on him out of the corner of her eye, of course.  She’d be a poor teacher and a worse substitute mother if she didn’t.  Not that she had ever wanted to be either, but sometimes one day of repeated poor decisions made in the heat of the moment compounding and doubling down on one another is all it takes.  In the wake of that she’d felt she owed it to him to be the best mentor and guardian she could be, and - truth be told - as much as a trial the past year has been she’s genuinely grown fond of this boy of ten summers.  He’s bright, eager, curious, and seemingly endlessly impressed with everything she does.

It helps that he still thinks of himself as being on a grand magical adventure and not as having been kidnapped in all but name and intention.

At the sound of a surprised yelp Aliana twitches the top of her staff in her charge’s direction and pulls it back, conjuring a clear platform just over the surface of the slow-moving current to catch him.  Maybe she should have let him fall in - instill a proper sense of consequences for recklessness and all that - but she’s grown too protective of him for that.  Maybe she’s spoiling him, but if she’s stolen one childhood from him, the least she can do is let him have his fun with this one.

The old her probably would have laughed as he fell in.

“Thank you Teacher!”

“Of course.  Do you want me to take you the rest of the way or would you like to make a practice session out of this?”

“Practice!” he exclaims, near fit to start jumping up and down on her conjured platform.

That does elicit a sparkling laugh from Aliana. “Go on then.  Show me what you can do.”

The boy scrunches his face in concentration and makes a box in front of one eye with thumbs and forefingers.  Three heartbeats pass before the first hint of the spell begins to manifest as a blue-white glow limning the interior of the frame formed by his fingers.  As he stares through that frame at the water before him a sympathetic glowing square of light manifests at his feet.  With deliberate slowness he begins moving one hand away from the other, stretching the square of light to match the frame’s altered perspective.  Once the light reaches the far shore he clenches his hands into fists and the spell flashes brighter before snapping into stability.

Relative stability at any rate.  The newly conjured bridge is a feeble, flickering thing with wavering edges and barely visible from one moment to the next.  A far cry from Aliana’s clean-cut, diamond-hard workings even if they were drawn using the same basic principles.  Then again, she’s been practicing near twice as long as her apprentice has been alive. 

Grinning ear to ear with his apparent success, the boy takes an eager step forward. 

His foot immediately goes through the conjuration as if it were no more than a trick of the light. 

Aliana suppresses the urge to catch him this time in favor of giving him a chance to recover.  And recover he does.  Rather than throwing his hands out in front to catch himself he raises both forefingers and brings them down in parallel slashing motions, drawing brighter edges down the length of his bridge. 

The teacher’s breath hitches when her student rolls at the last moment to hit the conjuration with his shoulder instead of his face.  The flickering surface gives beneath his weight but does not break.  The boy pats his reinforced working as if to verify that his last-second fix truly worked and that he was in fact not in the water.   Satisfied, or at least reassured, he cautiously rises and begins gingerly picking his way across.  Aliana’s stroll down her own bridge keeps pace with him. 

Her student’s feet sink in with every step, more like walking on a plush mattress than solid ground and he has to be careful to make sure he doesn’t go off the nearly-invisible and not-quite-straight path entirely, but all in all, it’s serviceable.  Even if the moment he picks up his pace his foot comes down hard enough to pierce the platform and soak his shoe. 

The twin shocks of surprise and wetness are enough to break his concentration.  The boy’s bridge winks out of existence, leaving his other foot to fall into the ankle-deep water inches from dry ground.  There’s another yelp and stumble, but it is his teacher’s hand that catches him this time. 

“Very good Ashan!” Aliana congratulates him with a bright smile that melts his budding disappointment into pride.  “Even better than I could’ve done at your age.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she lies.

It’s only technically a lie, she tells herself while helping him onto the shore and drying his clothes with a wave of her staff.  She was much further along at his age, but he’s remarkably advanced for the mere year that he’s spent learning.  It had taken her at least three to maintain a reliable working of that size and duration.  And besides, the phrasing is less cumbersome this way.  Yet another lie for the sake of convenience, but what’s one more at this point?  It’s hardly the worst she’s told him or made him complicit in.  It’s helpful even, for keeping his confidence up.  And how could she do otherwise for that wide-eyed face looking up to her?

“Teacher,” Ashan asks several minutes of walking through sun-dappled forest later, “why are we going through the woods to get to the Wizard Convocation?  Would not the road be faster?”

There it is again, that slightly off formality of speech that doesn’t match his tone.  She’ll need to get his translation charm checked out one of these days.

“You’re right,” she answers, “the road would be faster, but this way we get to see a surprise I’ve been wanting to show you.”

“What kind of surprise?!”

“Ooohh, I think you’ll know it when you see it.”  She pauses for a moment before adding in a marginally more serious tone, “And it’s the Convocation of Mages that we’re going to.”

“Oh, right.”

“You do recall the difference?”

“Mage is the general term for anyone who can do magic at will and wizard is a specific term for one way to study magic,” Ashan recites.

Close enough, Aliana thinks.  Still, better to quiz him more while they have the opportunity.  The last thing she wants is for someone to decide that his training has been lacking and suggest his apprenticeship be transferred.  Honestly, she’d rather not go to the Convocation, but between skipping the last one and word having gotten around that she’d taken an apprentice staying away from this one would just invite even more questions and rumors she’d rather not answer.

“Very good,” she says  “Now then, what’s the difference between a wizard and a witch?”

Seemingly sensing where this is going, Ashan stiffens his back and sticks one finger in the air in an imitation of Aliana’s own lecture mode.  “Wizards focus on application of theoretical systems of arcane laws and tend to manifest their magic in abstract or esoteric effects.  By contrast, witches draw their power from communing with supernatural entities and tend toward nature magic.  Clerics with deity-powered magic are technically witches under this schema.”

A textbook answer.  Gods, she hopes he doesn’t do that in front of any of her old academy friends.  Or worse, any of her old professors.  He sounds just like she did back in the day when she would make fun of their stuffy speeches after class.

“Correct, but can you put it in lay terms?”

“Wizards do math and philosophy to conjure disembodied forces and shoot fireballs.  Witches talk to spirits and gods to make plants grow and control animals,” he simplifies in a more relaxed tone.

 “A good approximation.  Just remember that it’s not a simple either-or, but a spectrum with a lot of overlap.  Most witches and wizards will incorporate at least a few practices or spell types more commonly associated with the other.  Almost no witch is completely ignorant of arcane theory and there are entire fields of wizardry devoted to working with plant life.  And every now and then you’ll meet someone who seems to meet the most common definition of one but identifies as the other, whether out of personal or cultural reasons.” 

“But if there’s so much overlap, how do you tell?  Why even make the distinction?”

“That,” Aliana says with a sign, “is a good question with a lot of complicated answers.”

“Which one?”

“Both of them.  But the short version for the second question is that they’re both very old terms that have meant a lot of different things to a lot of different people and cultures over the course of history, which means that people understandably tend to attach a lot of importance to them as part of how they see themselves.  As for your first question, well, you sort of get a feel for it after a while but really it’s just considered good form to go with whatever a given mage says they prefer, and politely apologize and correct yourself if you guess wrong, even if they don’t fit your definition.  Or just ask, but whether that’s considered polite or rude depends on where you are and who you’re asking.”

Ashan goes silent while he takes that all in, giving Aliana a moment to take in their surroundings.  There!  A patch of smooth white bark amidst the brown.  She adjusts their course in that direction.  Not too much further now.

“Is that why there are so many ‘-mancer” words?” Ashan asks a minute or so later.  “To give more precise labels?”

Clever boy.

“That’s a big part of it,” his teacher confirms, “even if it’s technically talking about something different.  Pyromancer, necromancer, transmutationist, oracle, beast whisperer; all different words for what someone specializes in doing with their magic rather than how it works.”

“So, someone calling themself a pyromancer tells you that they do a lot of fire magic, but not if they are a wizard, witch, or something else?”

“Exactly.  And some people prefer to be known and referred to that way.  Others view it as two separate and equally important aspects.  But if you’re going to find yourself in a duel, knowing your opponent’s specialization or lack thereof is more useful than knowing where their power comes from.  But again, there’s going to be all sorts of different mages at the Convocation, so just be polite and go with whatever they seem to prefer, even if it’s something that sounds hyper-specialized or made up.  And when in doubt, you can rarely go wrong just saying ‘mage.’ ”

The last thing either of them needs is to accidentally insult someone important, whether from his naïve ignorance or her slipping back into old habits regarding authority.  The less attention the two of them draw over this next week, the less likely anyone is to figure out the boy’s an anchor world mage.

“So what kind of wizard are you?” Ashan asks.

Battlemage.  Frontline combatant and premier duelist.

“I like to think of myself as a warder,” Aliana answers.  It’s not a lie.  It’s who she is now.  For him.  “I suppose ‘abjurer’ would be more accurate since I do more targeted barriers and bindings than proper area wards, but ‘warder’ just sounds so much more appropriately exciting and heroic for protecting people and stopping bad guys without hurting anyone, don’t you think?”

“Definitely!”  He pauses for a moment before adding “That’s what I will be one day too.”

Aliana smiles.  Coming from anyone else she’d call it flattery.  “If that’s what you want.  But remember, half the point of the Convocation is to exchange knowledge.  You might see some other styles that you could like better.”

“Maybe,” he says, drawing out the word, “but I doubt it.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I already know being a warder is the best.”

“Oh really?” She arches an eyebrow at him.  “And how could you have possibly come to that conclusion without seeing any other options for yourself?”

He gives her one of those bright, ear-to-ear grins he always does when he’s about to do something adorable or stupid.  “Because that is what you are, and I’m going to be just like you!”

As much as she should have expected that answer - did expect it - actually hearing it stops Aliana in her tracks.  The warmth and joy of being so earnestly looked up to collides with the cold and dread of implications he can’t realize.  “Like her” is what she’s spent the past year trying not to be herself.  Reckless, arrogant, lazy.  Those were the traits of a young wizard who had gone where she wasn’t supposed to, gotten in over her head, panicked, and kidnapped a child as a result.  She won’t let her apprentice become that person.  Or the kind of person who would rework a conjured barrier into an impossibly sharp blade or shrink a force cage to crush its occupant.  Sure, she’d only ever done those things to monsters, not people, but having a kid around’s been a stark reminder of just how brutal her magic can be.

Ashan slows to a stop, realizing that he’s outpaced her.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” she says with a shake of her head, “just thinking of a few more terms to quiz you on before we reach the surprise.”

“I’m ready!”

“Are you now?” she faux-mocks him.  “Then you won’t have any trouble telling me the two primary ways non-mages can do magic.”

“That’s an easy one!  Alchemy and enchanting.”

Aliana shakes her head.  “Close, but not quite.  You’re right about alchemy, but enchanting is just a specialization of ritual magic.”

“Then why are they called enchanters?”

“Remember what we just said about specializations?”

“Oh!”

“That’s right.  Although at least on this world so many ritual practitioners focus their craft on imbuing magic into items that anyone who mostly does that sort of working with glyph circles and lengthy incantations tends to get lumped into the label of ‘enchanter’.”

“But is not that three ways then?” Ashan asks.  “Alchemy, rituals, and using enchanted items.”

“Some people do say that, but it’s while alchemy and rituals are both ways of doing magic, with an enchanted item you’re just using magic that someone else set up for you.  Like buying a meal instead of cooking it yourself.  You still get to eat, and maybe even get to eat something you couldn’t have made yourself if you do usually cook, but you don’t get as much say in how it tastes and can’t adapt the recipe after you get it.”

“But you can add condiments to food.”

“That might not have been my best analogy.”

“That is okay.  I understand.”

Aliana reaches down and ruffles her student’s hair.  “Of course you do kiddo.”

How much longer will she be able to make that gesture of affection?  Should he be taller by now?  His hair’s grown faster than she expected, so why not the rest of him?  It was barely to his ears when she found him but at this rate it will be halfway down his back in a couple of months.  Just like hers is.  At least it covers up the other thing she did to him.

“So, what’s a sorcerer?” Ashan asks after smoothing his hair back down.  “We have gone over everything else, but I have never heard you talk about that one much.”

It’s a heavier topic than she’d wanted to touch on today, especially this close to their destination.  There are more pale-leafed white trees around them now than green and brown.  All the same species but these ones as they move close to the forest’s center practically seem to glow with absorbed aether.  Too beautiful a place to speak of darkness.

But she never could say no to sating curiosity, whether her own or another’s.

“A sorcerer is… well, it’s less of a description and more of an accusation.  It’s a term reserved for mages who practice magic that’s considered taboo, whether because it’s morally abhorrent or just too dangerous for anyone to safely or responsibly control.  Stealing or binding souls.  Communion with the eldritch.  Mind control.  True resurrection of the dead.  City-leveling evocations.  That sort of thing.”

“So it’s just a word for an evil mage?”

“It gets used that way a lot, but it’s more complicated than that.  A pyromancer that goes around intentionally lighting people’s homes on fire or a witch putting curses on innocents for her own amusement could certainly be called evil, but they wouldn’t be sorcerers because the magic they’re doing is still fairly normal.  Most people who call themselves sorcerers are like that and are just trying to make themselves sound scarier.   Meanwhile, someone might delve into forbidden sorcerous arts with the best of intentions meaning to use them for good; or simply be overconfident enough that they really think they can control what generations of mages before them have failed.”

“But it never works, right?  That’s how stories always go.”

“Just about.  Every couple centuries or so someone usually shows up with the talent and skill to actually command that kind of power without destroying themselves and everyone around them.  Maybe once a millennium you’ll get someone like that who doesn’t abuse their power to the point that they become threats to entire countries, if not entire worlds.  The only ‘true sorcerer’ like that alive right now in this world cluster is the sorceress Bridgewood, and there are as many horror stories about her as there are heroic ones.”

The fact that nearly every megalomaniacal threat of sorcerer started as an anchor world mage like Ashan is a talk that can wait for another time.

“But don’t you worry about any of that right now,” Aliana says, her bright tone and smile only a little forced.  “We’re here.”

The two of them step into a clearing dominated by a lone towering white tree whose bark glitters more like crystal than wood while its mother-of-pearl leaves make a shifting rainbow above.  Later Aliana will give her pupil a lecture on the leyline convergence and astral alignment that give rise to specimens like this, but for now she’d much rather simply watch his reaction as he slowly steps forward, eyes wide and mouth agape in wonder.  A few more steps and he gradually starts to pick up his pace.  And then the dam bursts on his excitement and off he goes once more, laughing all the way around the clearing, nearly tripping on roots as he runs.

Aliana’s own gait is only slightly more measured as she strides over toward the trunk that seven grown men would struggle to reach around together.  For once, her smile is genuinely at ease as it rarely has been this past year.  Placing a hand on the unnaturally smooth surface, she looks up at the sunlit canopy above.

“Hello old friend,” she whispers.  “I’ve brought someone to meet you.  He’s a good kid, even if he’s not from around here.  Please treat him as you did me.  His name’s Ashan.”

She tells herself that the boy’s taken well enough to the new name she gave him that the last part isn’t a lie.

The tree doesn’t say anything back.  It’s not that kind of magic infusing it.  But still, she likes to think that it remembers the girl who visited a decade ago and waited beneath its boughs for weeks, hoping for a branch to fall.  One day, she hopes, Ashan will come back here and do the same.

Leaning her staff against the great tree from whence it came, Aliana sits down and closes her eyes in cross-legged meditation.  Feeling the roots beneath her and the trunk at her back.  Hearing the whisper of the leaves in the breeze far above her.

When Ashan quietly sits down next to her, she waits until she’s sure his eyes will be closed before peeking at his imitation of her pose.  Amazing how good he is at shifting between youthful exuberance and studious tranquility.

I’m going to be just like you!

If that’s going to be the case, then she’ll just have to be the best version of herself she can for him.

She tells herself that the streak of midnight blue in his black hair matching her own is just a trick of the light through the leaves.